


Lucky Cat

by hellhoundsprey



Series: ficlet prompts [25]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Alexander Calvert, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Jensen Ackles, Trans Character, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: Prompt: newest radioco insta post!jensen / alex + muscle worship, beard kink, semi-cocky yet soft reassuring yet also kinda dom Jensen
Relationships: alexander calvert/jensen ackles
Series: ficlet prompts [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/478657
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Lucky Cat

Things like this don’t just…happen.

So, Alex is not sure what deity exactly he has to thank for this. Whose attention he caught to get this supernaturally lucky.

Stuck with desperately trying to remember how to breathe right, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Squeezes them and oh, yeah, he’s holding his own legs; right. Right.

Jensen says, “You okay?” in the pressing tone of someone who’s asked before but didn’t get an answer yet.

“Y-yeah? Yeah,” and Jensen kisses him, then, on the mouth. And if he were anyone but himself, if this wasn’t Jensen fucking Ackles going ass to mouth with him this carelessly, this would be the time for him to start throwing punches. At the very least.

As is, though, Alex catches himself groaning, catches himself sucking at Jensen’s wet nasty mouth and getting teary-eyed with the scratch of Jensen’s beard. With the sharp edges of Jensen’s teeth grazing his lips, casually nipping him like yeah no big deal, and if he’s not getting his dick out anytime soon, Alex is gonna cry for real.

Jensen laughs at his honest, “Fuck me,” dismissive and asshole-ish and Alex pulls at him in childish protest, childish impatience. Quiet, wet, “Please?” and Jensen licks deeper into his mouth for that one.

Tugs Alex closer to the edge of the table; is gonna ruin his fucking expensive jeans with the general mess going on between Alex’s legs and yeah yup, Alex is gonna cry, he is.

Low, encouraging, “You want that?” and Alex nods, stupid, too-eager, and Jensen smiles, bright enough that Alex can see it despite their faces being so close.

It’s too quick then, or he’s too slow—because Jensen’s reached between them and there’s not even much of a sound of that zipper going down, but Alex feels him whipping it out and his mouth would drop if Jensen wasn’t so busy stuffing him with his tongue.

Finally gets a chance to mutter, “Oh god, oh god,” with Jensen slicking himself up, fucking raw, and he asks, “This okay?” and Alex sobs, “Uh-huh,” because he’s stupid and God, fuck, he wants it.

Jensen lines up and starts pushing into him with such practice and ease that Alex forgets about his bodily form altogether, chokes back all noise and hangs onto Jensen’s neck, his massive shoulders.

The late afternoon sun breaks through the slits of the blinds all orange and heated, and Jensen makes the softest, the most delicate sound from deep down his chest, and Alex notices that he’s got one of his legs hiked all the way over that bulging-with-power arm.

Another heartbreak-sound for Jensen bottoming out, and Alex can’t tell which one of them was the source of _that_.

“Jesus Christ,” and that’s Jensen.

Alex thinks Alex has an appropriate response, anything, but Jensen rolls his hips and he kinda loses what little vocabulary he had left.

Gets Jensen’s not-somehow-angling-Alex’s-leg-out hand curled around his throat, and Jensen’s frowning, now, deep and sweating and eyes closed and leaning in to kiss Alex again, and Alex’s breath hitches because oh God it’s deep, and he feels himself swallowing against the baby-pressure of Jensen’s palm, and, oh, God.

Jensen pumps into him with as much confidence as he used eating him out, too fast too quick and maybe he’s hot for it, too, needs it just as bad as Alex and Alex reels, sobs; gets a hand between them to work himself while Jensen reams him out like they’re in a true hurry. Which they are, but they locked the door, didn’t they?

Sobbed moan, and Jensen fastens his hand some more, slams his cock home harder.

Low-growled, “This what you wanted?” and Alex just nods, whimpers, with his arm working hard and his sweat flowing even harder. Smells himself, Jensen; their BO, the dust-free too-expensive room.

Alex comes hard, and Jensen takes that as an invitation to reposition his hand from throat to hip, handle Alex even easier and pulls him back onto his cock at a punishing, frantic pace that leaves Alex sobbing, gasping for air; he grabs the table for support instead of getting himself off further and just lets this happen, lets Jensen ride out the last bits of what he can tell is a clenching mess. Blinks stupid and he should wipe at the drool in the corner of his mouth but he can’t, absolutely not.

Jensen grabs at Alex shirt and pushes it up, out of the way, and Alex will be extremely grateful that he’s sensible enough to pull out, after. Disappointed, now, in the heat of the moment, still catching his breath while Jensen grunts with his hand working himself through his own orgasm, with the plentiful mess spilling all over Alex still-heaving belly.

Thick, “Fuck,” while Alex is still pretty much out of language, while Jensen’s load cools shockingly fast on his exposed stomach. Jensen plucks his cap off his head to rake through his hair once, comb it back, just to pull it back on, lean in, kiss Alex on the mouth again. “Fuck, kid. Holy shit.”

Alex’s leg is flirting with a cramp just as Jensen gets his fingers back between his legs, slips his fingers right over the soaked heat of his cock and Alex flinches, weakly, mumbles, “Jensen,” but the rest gets drowned out—in Jensen’s mouth, Jensen’s beard.

Jensen gets him off again. Has him flat on the table, on his back, and wrangles two fingers up his used-up pussy, two up his ass, before he’s even done coming down. Alex babbles nonsense up against the roughness of Jensen’s beard, Jensen’s movie star teeth, and Jensen asks him something and of course he says yes, doesn’t have to know, just yes.

Barks, confused, once Jensen pushes his cock up his ass next, though. Gets shushed and fucked into deeper, gets Jensen’s mouth and weight and pulls him in, wills himself open and relaxed as far as he has any say in the matter. Makes Jensen purr, makes him grind his cock deep and then deeper and whispered sweet things like, “Good boy, Alex,” and maybe Alex begs uhm offers for Jensen to come in his ass this time because Jensen confides, “That’s the plan, bud,” and Alex has had some good anal in his time, yeah, but this is just, it’s, he can’t.

Something about this being this weird worshipping idol crazy fantasy kinda thing, and Jensen living up to all the expectations and whatnot, but, oh, holy shit.

Jensen gets him off with just the strict rhythm of his tucked thumb, the gut-deep heat of his bare cock. Doesn’t stop with his holy/cursed thumb even when Alex begins to whimper and toss, just pleads, “Let me,” so Alex lets him—work him to the oversensitive edge of his sanity while he pounds into his ass faster and harder, slap of skin on skin until his breath hitches, all sweet, all buried deep, and he lets go. Comes deep and hot and Alex shudders in sympathy, curls his fingers into the soaked hairline of Jensen fucking Ackles while he’s loading him up like some porn star, some grade-A stud or something and it’s ridiculous, and he’s probably only dreaming, but wow, you know what, he’ll take it.

Jensen comes down like he does everything—elegantly. Sighs and allows Alex to wipe the sweat from his face, to search out the jut of his cheekbones and the soft wrinkles around his eyes; the tuft of his beard. Allows himself to be pulled down for another kiss, and while Alex can’t remember him pulling out or being transferred to the nearby couch, he blinks awake, stupid and semi-cleaned. Babbles, “Whu?” but Jensen’s still there, on his phone and with a beer at his mouth and he nods, says, “Hey,” and, “You all right?” and Alex just nods, still down, still pleasantly paralyzed from the hips down.

The sun begins to set, somewhere, outside. A too-warm breeze whistles through the curtains, and Alex would be mad if the AC wasn’t working so beautifully nevertheless.

Alex only half-startles for the slip and thud of his sandal from his socked feet onto the white marble tiles of the room. He’s too lost in the sight of Jensen, right there, propped up on the couch and he’s not even _trying_ to be this beautiful, and that makes things even worse.

Jesus, he’s in a _bad_ way.

“Jared’s asking if we’re up for a pub crawl,” and Alex has to wait out a couple of beats until he realizes he’s being addressed with this not-a-question question. Jensen finally raises his eyebrows. “You up for it, or?”

Alex croaks, “Uh, yeah, sure,” and hopes he looks at least _somewhat_ sophisticated with how he props his cheek on his knuckles.


End file.
